


The Question in The Command

by DisasterMages



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 19:25:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15914721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterMages/pseuds/DisasterMages
Summary: Amelie very rarely asks for things, Angela's learned how to find the question in the command





	The Question in The Command

Amelie very rarely actually asks for things. More often than not, her requests come as insistence, her voice edged with it in a way that Angela’s learned to listen for. She’s learned to find the question hidden in the command.

_“Get it out of my face.”_

It only took a second of looking for Angela to learn that Amelie meant her hair, not the books in front of her on the coffee table. When Amelie had taken it out of it’s ponytail, Angela hadn’t noticed, but now, she stands up on her knees next to Amelie. Her fingers wind and comb through the thickness of it, gathering it up in one hand and reaching for the hair tie around Amelie’s wrist when it’s offered. This is something they do often enough that Angela’s perfected it, only the shortest strands of hair fall out at the base of Amelie’s neck.

_“Unzip me.”_

Amelie could easily unzip her own clothes, but she always makes a point to ask Angela to do it, pulling her hair out of the way but still looking back at Angela. Angela pulls the zipper down slow, pressing kisses down Amelie’s back before she’s even gotten what she’s wearing off. It’s never meant to start anything, Angela knows that Amelie likes to tease her more than anything else, but she still likes to see that wicked little grin Amelie’s got when she eases out of Angela’s grasp to ease the dress off and into the hamper.

_“Put it on me.”_

Angela knows for sure that Amelie is up to something when she asks her to put her new lipstick on her, but Angela still does it, focusing in on Amelie’s lips as the color spreads over them. She almost doesn’t notice that Amelie’s arms have draped themselves over her waist.She only notices that Amelie’s thumb is edging up her shirt when Amelie smiles up at her and almost makes her smudge the lipstick. “How do I look?” Amelie asks, perfectly painted lips spreading even wider as her arms tighten around Angela’s waist, pulling her in until Angela almost loses her balance.

“It’s a good color on you.” Angela already knows how she sounds when she says it, her throat tight and air getting harder to come by in her lungs as Amelie urges her to sit in her lap. And Heaven help her, Angela goes just in time to hear Amelie murmur something about wanting to see how it would look on her.

_“Come in with me.”_

It should be embarrassing when Angela remembers how little it took for Amelie to convince her to get into the shower with her, but now she’s in, and she’s pressed against Amelie’s cold skin with hot water soaking into her pores. Amelie’s fingers don’t chase away the warmth like they might have once, instead they slide over Angela’s back themselves, following the flow of the water as Amelie leans down to press a kiss to Angela’s forehead, and then her cheeks, then her nose, only stopping once she finds Angela’s lips. The water is going to run cold if they keep it up.

_“Hold still.”_

Angela thought that she was holding still, but Amelie is repositioning her head again, setting down the scissors to run the brush through Angela’s hair one more time. Before they were together, Angela had just cut her own hair, it’s what she’d had time for, but Amelie had asked to do it. Not demanded, she hadn’t even insisted, she’d asked one night after watching Angela take the scissors to her own hair, pulling at an uneven strand with one hand and brushing hair from Angela’s shoulder with the other. Angela remembers looking into those golden eyes that night and surrendering control of the scissors into Amelie’s hands.

_“I picked this out for you.”_

The first time Angela found a shirt laid out on her bed, there’d been a note attached to the wooden hanger, in Amelie’s handwriting to let Angela know Amelie had replaced the one with the coffee stain. But this shirt had been nicer than the one Angela had stained, it wasn’t silk, Amelie knew silk only got in Angela’s way at work, but it still felt nice when Angela ran her fingers over it. When she’d tried it on Angela realized that Amelie even remembered she didn’t like anything loose fitting when she was working. She tries her best not to stain that shirt.

_“Hold on.”_

Angela hadn’t even known she was hit until she’d reached down and found the entrance wound, but even that hadn’t connected until she’d felt Amelie’s hand on her other side and her voice was barely hitting Angela’s ears over the gunfire. They’d gotten in over their heads and Angela can’t make her mouth work well enough to tell Amelie that she’s going to be okay, so instead she just smiles, but it doesn’t look like it’s doing anything to comfort Amelie because Angela can still see something in those golden eyes that doesn’t look quite normal.

_“Stay still.”_

Angela had been put on bed rest after she’d been hit, she wasn’t even allowed the paperwork she was certain was piling up on her desk when the medics had gotten her stabilized, and Amelie was doing everything in her power to follow their orders, whether Angela wanted to or not. “Am I allowed to do anything?” Angela asks, following Amelie with her eyes as she moves around their bedroom, dropping Angela’s scattered clothes into the hamper and dropping the used bandages into the trash can.

“You’re allowed to relax and recover.” Amelie says without turning around. “I think you can manage to do that since you managed to get shot in the stomach.” It comes out cold, but Angela knows there’s something holding onto the edge of Amelie’s voice, maybe a kind of fear she hadn’t seen yet, or maybe Amelie was getting ready to throw up her hands and tell Angela to do what she wanted. Angela has a suspicion that it’s going to be the former.

“I hadn’t been trying to-” Angela had started to sit up, but Amelie cuts her off.

“Yes, but you did, so please say in bed.” Only when Amelie turns around does Angela sink back into bed, her arguments dying in her throat as she stares into Amelie’s eyes. It was almost certainly fear there, but of what Angela didn’t know. Amelie’s heels fall heavily onto the floor as she walks over to Angela’s side of the bed. “I won’t have you hurt yourself just because you’re too stubborn to stay in bed.” The urge to argue and say that she won’t hurt herself is still there, but the need to put her hand over Amelie’s is stronger and Angela squeezes it, looking up at her and nodding, promising that she’d stay in bed.


End file.
